Nothing
by haternotalover
Summary: Eli is left coping with yet another loss... How will he handle it? Rated T for language  *Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi*
1. Chapter 1

**Tell me what you guys think of this please because I'm not sure if I should continue it or not… Maybe I'll post two chapters because this one is kind of weird**

**Follow me on twitter: sisiluvdegrassi **

Eli lay on his bed, just staring at the ceiling, with his hands resting on his stomach. This is how he had been acting for the past few days, just laying on his bed, not really thinking, not really feeling. The only thoughts that ever crossed his mind were of Clare.

But she was gone from his life. He would never see the light brighten up her beautiful eyes or shine on her hair that could have been either dark red or light brown; he was never really sure. Never hear the lovingly sarcastic tone she used with him. Never see _her_ again.

When they had broken up this last time (for there had been many instances before that. But they were just "breaks"), it had been Eli's doing. He had said they were too "different". And although originally it had been Clare who had been worried about their differences, she had gotten over it and, a year later, Eli broke up with her for the same reason.

And he couldn't regret it more.

Over the sound of the sobs that suddenly attacked his body at the thought of his beloved, Eli heard a faint knock at the front door. Truthfully, Eli had no interest in answering the door, but he needed to do something, _anything_, to distract himself. He got up with an audible groan as he realized how stiff he was. Only getting up to use the bathroom and eat (when he remembered) was bound to do a number on one's joints.

He held on to the railing as he inched his way down the stairs, slowly relaxing as his muscles adjusted to the movement. He wiped his eyes, glad the tears had stopped as soon as they had started and put his hand on the tarnished brass doorknob. Eli opened the door to see a small, dark-skinned girl standing on the porch.

"Alli?" he asked, surprised. After he dumped Clare, Eli had assumed Alli would hate him as well. After all, that's what best friends do.

"Yeah, Eli, it's me. Look, I'm not here to chit chat. I just have to give this to you. I'm still unbelievably pissed, even more so now so just take this and I'll be going." Her tone was clipped. She reached into her giant green and black bag and pulled out a large manila envelope. Alli fished around in it until she apparently found what she was looking for. "Here."

In her hand was a white envelope. There was nothing special about it; it was really just something you would send a letter in. Except for one thing: Elis name was written in someone's flowing, elegant handwriting.

Clare's handwriting.

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I liked the reviews I got for the first chapter of this story. I don't know if I actually saw all the reviews because fanfiction isn't sending me emails anymore :( but the ones I saw were really great. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Two**

Eli held the letter in his left hand, His right lingered on the doorknob. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Alli had left over five minutes ago and he was still standing in the foyer of his parent's house. CeCe and Bullfrog were out; he had asked to be alone for a while.

And he was along. He was more alone than he had ever been before. When Julia died, Eli had blamed himself. Deep down, he knew he wasn't at fault for her death. But, with Clare, he knew it _was_ his fault. If he hadn't broken up with her, she would still be alive. She wouldn't have swallowed a handful of pills the week before…

Although Eli was wracked with guilt, he was also so angry. Angry at Clare for taking her own life, angry at his parents for leaving him alone (even if he asked), angry at himself for everything that was wrong in his life. Suddenly, Eli had an idea.

He took his hand off the doorknob and walked over to the kitchen. He opened the drawer forcefully, almost pulling it off its track. He reached into the open drawer and took out a large bread knife.

Eli knew what he would need to do. It's wasn't like he hadn't contemplated suicide before. It wasn't like he hadn't _attempted_ suicide before. He knew how many cuts to make, how deep they should be. The knife brushed against his skin. It was alongside one his old scars. But those were old, healed scars. From another time. It wasn't enough to make an actual cut, just a tiny insignificant scratch. There was no way it would even leave a scab, let alone cause a fatal amount of blood loss.

The scratch didn't sting. Well, it did a little. But it felt good. He liked the feeling of the knife against his skin. It was… relaxing. He wanted to do it again. That cut made him realize that everything would be okay, as long as he could have a little stress relief now and then. Eli raised the knife again.

He heard a sound, like a small snap. "Probably just one of the mouse traps again. This place is such a dump…" He muttered to himself. But it was that sound, that _snap_, that saved Eli's life that day. Because, If he hadn't looked up at the sound of the mouse trap, he wouldn't have seen the letter from Clare sitting on the counter, waiting for him to read it.

'Damn.' He thought 'Even when she's dead, she's still saving my life.' A new round of tears came, blurring Eli's vision. While he was crying, he had enough time to talk himself out of reading Clare's letter. Even though he wanted to read it so much he stopped his suicide attempt, he wasn't able to read it right then.

Seeing her handwriting, smelling the faint scent of her perfume that probably still lingered on the paper, just _reading her name_ would be too much for Eli. Too much, too soon.

He slipped the bread knife into the drawer and slowly dragged himself beck to his room, back to what he was doing before Alli had interrupted: Nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for not updating this is FOREVER. I'vee been sosososo busy with school and I've been sick so I've been spending a lot of time sleeping or tossing and turning becuse I'm too sick to sleep. I think this might be the longest chapter I've ever written for fanfic. Thanks for understanding!**

**Chapter Three**

Coward.

Part of Speech: Adjective

Definition: Eli Goldsworthy

Eli was back to his old habits. Just lying in bed, doing nothing, was the norm for him. Even today, although he knew he should be getting ready for Clare's funeral which started in less than two hours, he lay almost motionless on his bed. He wanted to Clare's funeral, he really did, but there was something holding him back.

Eli Goldsworthy was _afraid_.

Yes, he admitted it. Eli was terrified. Terrified of seeing Clare's family, her mother and father, Darcy, staring at him with accusing glances through their tears. Even though he had spoken to Helen, Clare's mother, and she had specifically told him no one would blame him and he shouldn't blame himself (apparently, Clare had told her mother about his past), Eli couldn't help but feel that all of her relatives would hate him, and if he could read minds, he knew all of theirs would say "I know what you did."

He couldn't deal.

Eli was terrified of seeing Clare's body: too much makeup, stuffy church clothes, eyelids sewn shut. He would rather his last memory of her to be sad and broken-hearted, than cold and lifeless and fake.

Eli was never really _good _at funerals. He wasn't sure what to do; some people would sob their eyes out and others would just stare straight ahead, stone-faced. Eli always did some mixture of the two. He had gone to Julia's funeral and it was just as awkward as he had imagined. He didn't cry. He wasn't able to. The tears didn't come until later, when her death fully hit him.

'Ironic.' He thought. 'The guy who's supposedly obsessed with death is too afraid to go to his own ex-girlfriend's funeral.' This made him laugh, a sad, quiet laugh, for no one but himself.

Because he had no one to laugh with now.

He had no one at all.

With that thought, he started crying for everything he'd lost: Clare, his family, his happiness. _Everything_ was gone.

Eli couldn't help but think back to the week after Julia had died. He had acted much the same way, doing nothing but wallowing in self-loathing.

School had been canceled for today because of Clare's funeral, but the other three days since she had died, Eli had just skipped. He wouldn't put up with the angered glares from Clare's actual friends, the pitying glances from everyone else.

He knew he would have to go back to Degrassi at some point, but not this soon. The wound was too new, too fresh.

He heard his parent's voices wafting up the stairs. Cece's normally loud, cheerful voice was instead subdued and sort of sad. "Bullfrog, I'm just worried about him. It wasn't nearly this bad when Julia died…" She took a deep breath. Eli could tell she was crying.

CeCe had always been especially sensitive to her son's feelings. This was a blessing and a curse. On one hand, CeCe could always tell when something was wrong with Eli and they could talk about it. On the other hand, sometimes he just wanted to be left alone, and he definitely wouldn't be getting his way if his mother was constantly pestering him.

"I know, I know…" Bullfrog responded sadly. "We can't let him do this to himself again. He needs to re-start therapy."

No. No no no no no no no! Eli refused to go to therapy again. He'd gone almost a year and a half without therapy. Pretty much the same amount of time he had known Clare. This thought only made him regret everything that happened all over again. Clare had helped him with all his crap and he didn't even notice until now, didn't even say _thank you_.

"I'm such an _ass_." Eli said aloud. The sound of his voice surprised him. He hadn't heard it in a while and it sounded hoarse and crackly. His fists clenched at his sides and he slammed them down into the mattress.

There was a set of footsteps on the hardwood steps: like the clicking of heels. Probably CeCe. Eli inwardly groaned. He knew his mother would jump at the chance to speak with him as soon as she knew he was willing to open his mouth. He hadn't spoken to his parents ever since he had asked them to go out for a few hours. That was two days ago. It was the day Alli had dropped off Clare's letter.

The letter Eli had yet to read. 'Another reason why Eli Goldsworthy is a coward.' He thought bitterly.

There was a knock at the wood door. Just three short, quick raps that confirmed that it was CeCe on the stairs before. She was always really energetic and everything she did seemed to be in fast forward.

"Hey, baby boy." CeCe smiled cautiously and she slid through the door. She figured he wouldn't want the door open anymore than would have to be. "I found something I think you might want to read." She was holding the letter from Clare, waving it around like she was Wayne Brady on _Let's Make a Deal_.

Eli made a face and she quickly stopping waving, setting it down on the dark dresser instead. There was actually space now that his room was clean ('All thanks to Clare' he thought) and it sat flat without resting on any one popcorn buckets or CDs too scratched to play.

CeCe's eyes were still red and just the tiniest bit puffy. It amazed Eli how hard his mother tried to put on a happy face for him. She was always pretty good at it, and had Eli not looked to closely and had he not heard her crying downstairs, he would have assumed nothing was wrong.

"Mom, don't be sad. I _will_ read it eventually, but she only died six days ago. I need time." He tried to fake a smile at her, but it came out more as an awkward grimace.

"I understand Eli. When you're ready you can read it, and not a minute sooner." CeCe said quietly. "How come you're not dressed?" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Dressed for what?" Eli asked, pretending to have forgotten. He didn't want to admit his cowardice to his mother.

"You know Eli." Her voice was back to the lower volume from earlier. Her expression was pained. She obviously didn't want to say it for fear of making Eli more upset than he already was. But someone had to. He finished for her.

"Clare's funeral."

**You know what would be cool? If you follow me on twitter: sisiluvdegrassi or read my blog (link on my page)**

**But the bestest thing you can do is REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry I don't update as much as I'd like. I'm really busy and I had this mega- huge-worth-half-your-grade-project due yesterday that I've been busy working on. But now that that's over I can focus more time on writing.**

**Chapter Four**

CeCe had only left the room seconds before when Eli turned on his side and flung the drawer to his nightstand open. His hand rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He closed his fist around the small pocket knife he had gotten from his dad when he joined Boy Scouts.

"Remember, buddy, this is for _emergency_ purposes only." Bullfrog's voice echoed through his mind then. But this was an emergency. He needed the courage to go to Clare's funeral. He needed to be able to look at her dead body—to get accustomed to the fact that she was dead.

He quickly pulled his hand out of the drawer, still grasping the knife, and sat up leaning against the headboard of his bed. Eli moved the now open blade against the skin of his wrist. It was like a cloud of serenity had surrounded him, taken over his body, his soul. He knew he could do it. He could go to Clare's funeral. He could face her family.

Suddenly, he felt something warm and wet dripping on his leg. "Oh shit." Eli said and quickly but quietly scurried to the bathroom down the hall. He didn't want this parents to know about his "confidence boosts" when Julia died and he certainly didn't want them knowing now. CeCe would be sad—he had promised not to do it again—and Bullfrog would be stoic, but Eli knew he would be heartbroken on the inside. He hated hurting his parents like this, but he _needed to_. It wasn't like he was cutting himself for fun.

_Funny, _Eli thought. He had never actually said the word before, even to himself. It was always "self harm" or some scientific BS his old therapist used. But no one had ever used the word _cutting _before. That just made it too real. If what he was doing was cutting, it meant he had a legitimate problem. With the other terms, Eli could write it off as something else, some other word to fuel his denial. But he needed to come to terms with it. He was, and probably always would be, a cutter.

He tried to deny it. But there was too much evidence stacked against him: he liked to pain, he needed to slice his wrist open too feel control. And most of all, he couldn't stop. After Julia's death, when Eli began cutting for the first time, there was always that need, poking and prodding at him during the day. Like when you're counting down the days until your birthday. Eli would count down he minutes until he could be home again and open his wrists. He needed to see the blood, to smell the coppery scent, to know that he could get through the next day.

The warm water ran on his wrist, burning a little, but that pain felt good as well. The waster in the sink was tinged a pinkish color but Eli was too overcome with emotions to notice. There was guilt—after all he had promised no more cutting (for that was what he was doing). There was loss—he missed the sweet heaven that was denial. After all ignorance is bliss. But the most prevalent feeling, strange as it may be, was _relief_. Eli was relieved for two reasons. One, he hadn't been caught by his parents. And two, he now had the courage to go to Clare's funeral, look her family in the eye, to see the love of his life still and lifeless. To watch them lower her into the ground. He had to see her one last time before she was buried six feet under the earth, before her body started to decay…

No. He couldn't be thinking in this sick way. Eli didn't need to convince himself not to go. He owed it to her family, to his parents, to himself.

_To Clare._

**Would it be weird if I say I feel bad for Eli? It never feels right when I get emotional about **_**my own **_**writing because honestly I don't think it's good enough to get emotional over. But whatever.**

**Twitter: sisiluvdegrassi**

**Blog: link on my profile page**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow… it's been too long since I've updated. I've been so busy so I'm only able to write sentences at a time. But I'm going to make an effort to post more.**

**Oh, and I'm putting my other story, "The Just Friends Clause" on hiatus until I'm done with this one because I barely have enough time to write as it is, but I feel guilty just leaving all my readers hanging.**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

**Chapter Five**

Eli stepped through the doors of Saint Mary's Catholic Church and instantly regretted it. The air was stuffy, like no one had opened a window since the place had been built. This amused him and he half-smirked, only to receive looks of disgust from some of the mourners near the door.

He felt out of place, and although he was clad all in black (this was the norm for him, though), it seemed like he didn't belong. The last time he was in a church was late April of 2009 for Julia's funeral. No matter how many times Clare had asked him to "just try it", he never went. Now, it was one of the biggest regrets of his life. Given the chance, he would go back and go to church with her every week. He would do anything to spend even one more _second_ with her.

Eli never told Clare about his Catholic past; he didn't want her to think differently of him, that he had _given up_ on God. But, the truth was, he had. When Julia died, he stopped believing in God. If there was such a person as God, how could he let people so beautiful, so sweet (_Oka, _Eli thought. _Maybe Julia wasn't so sweet._) be taken out of their family's lives. It just wasn't fair.

"Eli," a relieved voice said. He broke from his reverie and noticed a woman of medium height with dyed chestnut brown hair. There were little streaks of gray throughout, so she had to be at least in her forties. "I'm so glad you could make it." Her eyes were red and puffy, but she still had a slight smile on her face. The mousy-looking woman was familiar to Eli, and he quickly realized it was Clare's mom, Helen.

"Yeah, it's great to be here. Well—I mean—" he tried to correct himself. It wasn't great to be there. It was his ex-girlfriend's funeral. The ex-girlfriend that he was still in love with. The ex-girlfriend whom he broke up with for a reason he could barely remember. The ex-girlfriend who ended her own life for reasons still unknown to him.

Eli put a hand in his pants pocket. His fingers soon found the unopened, wrinkled envelope that he had shoved in to his pocket at the last minute before _leaving_ the house. _I can find out…_ he thought. _No. Not yet._

"Yes, I know what you mean." Helen half-smiled, but the expression quickly hardened into a more solemn, indifferent frown. "Listen, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering if you would… speak. Just say something about Clare. I know you meant a lot to her, and even if Clare and I didn't exactly see eye to eye about you I think it would make her happy."

_Shit,_ he thought. "Um… I don't know if… I can do that." he shifted his weight awkwardly. Left, right. Left, right. "Sorry, it's nothing personal. I just don't think I'm ready." He looked at his shoes, the scuffed black boots he'd had forever. He had been wearing them the day he met Clare. The day he ran over her glasses, though he didn't know it yet, was the both the best and worst day of his life.

On one hand, he had met Clare. She brought a light to his eyes, to his _whole life_, that hadn't been seen since before Julia died. But on the other hand, he met Clare. It may seem strange, but not with the seemingly unending loss and sorrow he was feeling, he regretted ever saying one word to her.

Honestly, he wanted to address everyone, maybe apologize to the crowd for taking Clare from them, but that wasn't something he was ready to do. Eli knew that, if he believed in Heaven, Clare would be watching the entire funeral scene, willing him to speak. She probably wanted him to say something about her death was all his fault and how sorry he was for that. And although all that was true, he didn't want to admit it to pretty much all of the students and faculty at Degrassi and especially all of Clare's family. He had too much pride for that.

Eli glanced quickly at his watch. There were only a few minutes left until the service started. He still wanted to see Clare, just one more time before she was buried, her beautiful face never again to see the light of day. He said a quick goodbye to Helen and she walked away.

He realized that he was just standing in front of the doorway to the church. His parents had left him already, CeCe to talk to Clare's mom and Bullfrog to scrounge up some food. Eli's footsteps were quick and quiet as he nearly ran up the aisle, between the pews and somber funeral goers, earning him several dirty looks. He didn't care. The walkway was longer than he expected and he arrived at the casket semi out of breath. He inhaled deeply a couple times, mentally preparing for what he was about to see.

One at a time, Eli put his hands on the edge of the coffin. He pulled himself slightly forward so his face was over the body. Another deep breath passed through his lips and his eyes focused on his ex-girlfriend's body.

Her hair was curled so it looked almost like it did her sophomore year at Degrassi. Her face was caked makeup. It made her look old. She had on one of her nicest dresses, a long, white thing that went about an inch past her knees. Eli had seen it on her many times.

His stomach churned suddenly and he rushed to find a men's bathroom before he lost his lunch in the middle of the church or on someone's shoes.

The little gingerbread man-looking sign welcomed him. The type of handle on the door told his it was not a bathroom with stalls, just a toilet and a sink. Only one person could use it at a time. This was good. Eli didn't want anyone else to see or hear what was going on in that bathroom.

**Hmm… Eli has issues. I don't really care about reviews anymore. Do it if you want, but me getting emails saying that people are alerting and favoriting, it's enough.**

**I tweet!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. I do own the new(ish) Panic! album though. At least I'm a little bit cool now.**

**So, I'm no longer inspired by this story, but I want to finish it. Two more chapters and then I'm done. I have a new story in mind that I'm really excited for. I think I'm going to focus more on that one and work on The Just Friends Clause if I have some extra time.**

**Chapter Six**

Eli rapped on the door quickly, trying to hold off his oncoming nausea. When there was no answer, he tried the handle and the door swung open, revealing a relatively bland restroom. The walls were a faded light blue and the mirror was smudged and cracked.

Had he not been too busy concentrating on not missing the toilet, Eli probably would have thought something sarcastic along the lines of 'W_hy didn't Jesus use his magical powers to fix up this bathroom?'_.

When he was done being sick, he flushed the toilet and sat next to it, sweating. He rested his head against the wall, not caring if he got little paint flakes in his hair. He felt as if his chest was closing in on him. His breath was coming is hurried gasps and his eyesight was fading at the edges. Eli's thoughts were almost incoherent with his confusion and panic. He didn't think to call for help.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes of torture, Eli remembered the pen he kept in the back pocket of his grey skinny jeans. Writing always calmed him down and although he didn't have any paper, he figured he could write on the walls or his skin or something. Jesus would understand.

His hands were shaky and it was hard to stand up enough to get it from his pocket. He did it though and soon enough, the black ink writing instrument was in his hands.

This was all too much for Eli and he couldn't control himself. He gripped the pen tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, there was a sharp _crack_ and Eli could feel the sharp shards of plastic digging into his skin.

He clenched even tighter.

It was opening his skin. The stale air circulating in the small, enclosed restroom agitated his wounds. The pain stung, but it was like a familiar friend. He had missed it.

Slowly, his breathing calmed down a little and the tightness in his chest relaxed. It was still uncomfortable, but it was no longer the mind blowing pain it was before.

Eli grasped another shard of plastic, a larger, sharper one than the tiny pieces from before. It poked his hands. As he held it to his wrist, his breathing calmed down to an almost normal pace and his vision completely returned.

The plastic broke the skin and drops of blood oozed out in some places.

A sigh of relief passed through Eli's lips and he regained enough strength to stand up and leave the bathroom, but not before running water from the grimy sink onto his hands and wrist.

Mrs. Edwards was seated in the front pew surrounded by misty-eyed family members. He tapped on her shoulder and she turned around, surprised.

"Eli?" Helen's confused voice asked. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Eli cut her off.

"I want to speak," He said firmly, holding his left wrist tightly to make sure no blood would slip out and give him away. "I want to give a speech."

**PS: I hope I didn't offend anyone with the Jesus comments. This is just what I think Eli thinks, so no hate please.**

**PPS: I know this sucked. Like I said, I'm no longer inspired. READ AND REVIEW**

**Twitter: sisiluvdegrassi**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, it's been a while since I've posted and I apologize for that. But I've been busy. I have finals in a couple weeks and I'm graduating soon. I've been writing but it takes forever for me to sit down and type.**

**2 more chapters after this one! I know it's a bad, short chapter but that's just the way it turned out.**

**Chapter Seven**

Eli wiped the sweat off his hands and onto the sides of his pants as he stepped up to the podium. He tried to avoid looking down and seeing his ex-girlfriend's body lying there, unmoving and cold.

Although he hadn't written anything down for the speech he was about to give, Eli had been preparing what he wanted to say the entire time he had been seated in the uncomfortable pew.

Many people had spoken before it was Eli's turn to go up: Helen Edwards, Clare's father, Randall, Darcy, who had returned from Kenya only weeks before Clare's death, Alli, Adam, and Clare's grandmother.

Eli cleared his throat, coughing in his hands and again wiping them on his thighs. He put his mouth close to the small microphone attached to the wooden box.

"The first time I saw Clare Edwards, I had just run over her glasses with my hearse, Morty, he first week of my junior year. I got out of my car and I ended up telling her that she had pretty eyes. Then we became English partners, and I realized she was so much more than a girl with a pretty face. She was smart and funny and just a little bit sarcastic. We started dating, and I fell in love with her soon after. It wasn't easy; I had a lot of… stuff from my past and Clare had to deal with that. I know it was hard and I hated putting all that pressure on her. But we made it through—or at least I thought we did.

"Clare and I had a lot of fun times together. I taught her to drive in my hearse, we went on adventures, discussed writing; A story I wrote and she edited was even featured in one of my favorite comic books. We were good.

"But I messed it up. We were good… and then I broke up with her. I don't even remember why, but I did it. And then, a few days later, she was dead. I never even got to say goodbye to her. I think one of my biggest regrets in life is that I never got to say goodbye." Eli paused, looking around the large room at the faces of Clare's old family and friends.

"She wrote me a letter before she died; I haven't read it yet, though. I've been waiting for the perfect moment. I don't know what's in it and I think it's time I found out. I think everyone should know what she said. Because it's up to me and whoever else got a letter from Clare to keep her legacy going." Eli reached into his pocket and pulled out the still unopened envelope. "This is it…" he said, more to himself than anybody else. Eli slid his finger under the flap and moved it across the length of the envelope. He pulled the paper out and flattened it against the podium.

He took a deep breath and began to read.

**Oh, and I just posted an Eli oneshot. Check it out!**


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